Micheals nodded, not commenting on the advisability of giving a soldier a scientist's job.
"You're a professor, aren't you?"
"Yes. Anthropology."
"Good. Smoke?" The general lighted Micheals' cigarette. "I'd like you to stay around here in an advisory capacity. You were one of the first to see this leech. I'd appreciate your observations on—" he smiled—"the enemy."
"I'd be glad to," Micheals said. "However, I think this is more in the line of a physicist or a biochemist."
"I don't want this place cluttered with scientists," General O'Donnell said, frowning at the tip of his cigarette. "Don't get me wrong. I have the greatest appreciation for science. I am, if I do say so, a scientific soldier. I'm always interested in the latest weapons. You can't fight any kind of a war any more without science."
O'Donnell's sunburned face grew firm. "But I can't have a team of longhairs poking around this thing for the next month, holding me up. My job is to destroy it, by any means in my power, and at once. I am going to do just that."
"I don't think you'll find it that easy," Micheals said.
"That's what I want you for," O'Donnell said. "Tell me why and I'll figure out a way of doing it."